


Sleep, My Darkened Chapel

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, Grief/Mourning, burial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Erik buries and grieves for his family.





	

God didn’t answer.

Erik sat, is beloved family in his arms, rocking them gently, knowing that there were things that had to be done, needed to be done and yet unable to move, unable to even pull out the offending arrow that had stolen them. 

His Magda, his Nina, his babies, his cherished ones, no, no, they had to wake up, they had to come _home_ because without them there was nothing, there was no world, no joy, no hope ...

He pressed his cheek to Magda's hair, kissed the soft skin of her temple. He had first realised that he wanted to kiss her when she’d pushed her hair back from her face, intent, concentrating and Erik had watched her working and suddenly thought how beautiful she was, how despite knowing his real name, she wasn’t stopping, she was still here, still helping him because, as she said calmly, it needed to be done.

A human that he wanted to kiss. It had hardly seemed possible. But it had been there, burning in him, that desire for her, right at the start.

He kissed her again now, mouthed at her hair and cheek but her warmth was already fading, her light gone, her beautiful light sent where he could not follow, where he could not find her.

He finally moved them, lifting them in his arms. He would take them home, bury them where they had lived, where they had been safe and loved. He would bury them deep and safe where nobody and nothing would find them and they would be together until he could reach them again.

Their bodies were beginning to stiffen, false shells, hard to carry. He had carried Nina so often, thrown her into the air, cradled her to his chest an cheeks, propped her on his hop so she could see what he was doing, enjoying herself. Cuddled her in his arms as he had helped her through childish nightmares, held her hand as she had introduced him to another of her beloved friends.

The forest was silent. Doubtless, they mourned her too, would miss her desperately. But it did not good. He couldn’t speak to them, could not share his grief with theirs. His powers were with cold, dead metal, not life and warmth. He should never have looked for life and warmth.

Oh Nina. His baby, his little daughter. When he had first held her, it had been like holding joy itself. She had yawned and crinkled her nose and he had almost cried. He had sworn to be a father she could love and rely on and be proud of, a father that she would always have at her side to sae her from the dark.

Oh God, was she in the dark now? Was she alone and scared and lost?

No. No, Magda was with her. His one shred of comfort, that if there _was_ anything but black death, Magda and Nina had gone together and would share it together, safe and warm and able to comfort each other.

He began to dig in the garden, heedless of the vegetables that Magda had always worked over. It would not matter now. She couldn’t eat them and no one else had the right, nobody else would steal the fruits of her labour when they had stolen her.

He dug for hours, slow and steady digging. It would be deep and safe for his babies, dark but good darkness, something warm. He said the prayers of his childhood as he did, trying not to think of his mother and father, trying not to think of how it ought to be. There were no oughts. Nothing was right. Nothing ever would be.

When the time came, he pulled the arrow from them. The sound it made was horrible and he vomited, then felt ashamed for soiling their graveyard in such a way. He went inside for a hairbrush and used it to neaten Magda’s beautiful hair, then Nina’s, crooning to them, singing songs over and over until his throat hurt. He lined the grave with the blanket from his and Magda’s bed, then carefully lifted Magda onto it, then Nina, twisting their arms around each other, making them safe and close together. He slipped Nina’s doll into her arms, refastened the cleaned locket around her neck, then covered them with a sheet before slowly, slowly beginning to fill the grave in again.

“Why?” he asked out-loud as the soil fell, more and more of it, his voice choked with tears. “Why did you do this to me?”

But God didn’t answer.

Gods never did. 

And Erik was alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12dayschristmas


End file.
